


For Safekeeping

by Xicana



Series: Hermione the Tulpamancer [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Black Hermione Granger, Complete, F/F, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xicana/pseuds/Xicana
Summary: An ordinary occurrence continues to unravel.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Hermione the Tulpamancer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680478
Comments: 25
Kudos: 149





	1. Prologue

A tiny brunette with curls bigger than her person sat on the bench outside the drafty cold office. Hands over her ears, she muffled out the sounds of yelling. After reciting the alphabet in English and French, she sighed and threw herself back on the bench. 

Exhausted and hungry, she got up in search of the nearest vending machine. The girl went only to realize she didn't have her money. It was in her bedroom beside her bed in the piggy bank she promised to preserve. 

_'I wonder if Mrs. Robin is here today. Maybe she has snacks!'_

Tiny feet ran towards the suite next door and stopped as they ran smack into someone. A hand gripped her upper arm before she slammed backward onto the floor.

"I'm sorry!" The little girl immediately tried to back away. "I didn't mean to run into you." 

A smile spread on the blood-red lips. "It's alright, accidents happen." Cold fingers ran through black ringlets and stopped themselves before they combed through the brunettes.

"I didn't see you." A lower lip quivered as the child tried to stop from crying. "I promise."

A laugh escaped from the older woman. Eyes sparkled with humor. "I believe you, little one."

"Hermione!" Footsteps padded down the long corridor, and her father came into sight. "I asked you to wait in our office."

"Daddy! This is my new friend." A small fist grasped the air instead of the coat that was there moments ago. 

"Yes, it's nice to meet your new friend. Don't tell your mother, and please listen to me next time." His voice was equally stern and dismissive as he grasped the smaller wrist leading them towards the vehicle parked in the lot. 

That was the first time the tiny brunette had met her friend, Bellatrix. 

The two quickly became best friends, and Hermione had never been happier. She had never hated School, but it was difficult because of the constant ridicule she faced. Her parents were always busy working, and they had their problems. She had no one to confide her problems. Rather, she didn't before.

_'She always cheats. I swear I checked my closet already.'_

"Bella!" Small footsteps sounded closer, and the closet was ripped open.

"Aha! I got you. Now it's my turn to hide." A hand gripped the back of the purple jumper and picked up the child as if she weighed nothing. A delighted squeal left the mouth of the tiny brunette. 

"Hermione, keep it down!"

"Sorry, Mom!" Hermione shook with Bellatrix's laughter. A frown marred her face. The hand maneuvered her to face Bella's bright smile. 

"C'mon, don't be a sore loser." Black hair was gripped in a tiny fist. Dark grey eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

Brown eyes crinkled in determination. The small fist began the motion, and storm grey eyes widened. 

"Okay, truce!" 

"Nope."

"You win."

"Try again."

"I'm sorry, little one."

A satisfied smile graced the smaller girl, and she released the hair held hostage. 

The girl opened her arms. The older woman obliged. "Thank you." The steps creaked as someone climbed up towards the room. Knowingly, the smaller girl asked to be put down. "You'll be here to read with me?" A small nod was the only confirmation she needed. 

The door was ripped open, and an upset looking older woman came into the room. "I want this mess cleaned up. I already have to clean up after your father, not you too." 

"I have to go to bed soon. Bella and I are going to read a story!" 

"Enough, you're eight years old. It was cute when you were six, but now it isn't." The small girl flinched as if she were smacked. The older woman sighed and sat on the bed beside her. The smaller girl fidgeted because of the discomfort.

"I need you to try and make more friends at school." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can take you to see someone. A doctor for your feelings. Do you want that?" The silence was deafening as they sat beside one another. The smaller girl wanting to avoid conflict gave in to her mother.

Hermione hung her head. "I'll try harder, I promise." 

That night a small figure burrowed beneath blankets cried clutching her pillow, trying to muffle the sound.

Outside the window, a figure wept quietly. Their mind made up and their heart-clenching along with each sob that came from the blankets. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to post as one-shots, but I am enjoying the storyline. I am new to writing, but Quarantine has given me more time to try out writing as a hobby. I have chapters written for this first story in the series, and I look forward to comments and constructive criticism. The rating will change as the story progresses, and the chapters will be longer as the plot progresses.


	2. Meet-cute

The sunlight came in through the blinds with a spiteful potency. A glare aligned perfectly with fluttering eyelids. Lids opened, and the light reflected off of tired brown eyes. With a small hiss, the brunette tossed her arms over her forehead attempting to cover her eyesight. She tried to fall asleep again and sighed because she couldn't. 

The sound of the shrill alarm swallowed the fitful silence, and it was enough to irritate the brunette. With a steady hand, the brunette whacked at the alarm, and in the same swift motion, she left the bed. Going through the motions, she found herself in the kitchen making herself a small breakfast. Her hair drying, she imagined winding down after school. 

_‘It’ll be worth it tonight when Ginny picks you up, and you have a night in with wine.’_

That mantra kept her going through her first two courses. Sadly, during her lunch break, her joy was shot dead on sight.

A button nose wrinkled in disgust at the scene before it. A red freckled hand wiped the spittle from the owner's mouth and continued chewing without care.

Intentional or not, the brunette was over it.

"Honestly, Ronald!" The boy hesitated before shrugging. 

"Why aren't you eatin'?" The brunette smacked him repeatedly with his napkin for spewing food as he spoke. 

"I'd rather starve than eat beside you and Harry!" At the mention of the raven-haired boy, he perked up with crumbs in his facial hair. The brunette gestured towards her face, and he took the hint. 

To her left, she felt the seat being pulled out. "Granger." Thin lips pursed in amusement. "You've been friends with them long enough to know better." He reached across the disgruntled girl towards the creamer. "What's your deal today?"

"Malfoy." She greeted with a sigh, already mentally exhausted. "It's none of your concern." 

In actuality, the petite brunette was upset because no one was aware of her predicament. In a detrimental lapse of judgment, Hermione failed to come up with an excuse to reject her admirer. As she had been cornered in her sanctuary, the library, her friends were playing cards in Harry's apartment. Nothing is sacred.

As if the admirer was aware of Hermione's train of thought, she felt her hairs stand at attention. Green eyes behind round-rimmed glasses noticed her demeanor shift.

“It’s probably Krum glaring at you because you get him going.” The brunette rolled her eyes and continued to stab at her food. She had never understood the rugby's team captain's fascination with her.

"You should just let him down easy, Granger.” Brown eyes drifted over to meet the ice-blue stare. “Men like him and I, we aren’t built to withstand any damage to our ego. I nearly transferred to another university after confessing my feelings to Daphne and being rejected.” 

“Your mother coddling you too much is not an excuse for your fragile masculinity.” The brunette paused and averted her gaze. 

“Besides,” small shoulders shrugged nonchalantly “it’s too late, I already agreed to a date.”

The horrid sound of choking and wheezing halted the chattering in the dining hall. A rapidly reddening face joined fire-engine hair. Harry brutally beat Ronald's back.

As this continued, kind brown eyes met hers across the hall. She mouthed 'later' to the youngest Weasley. A nod in understanding and Ron was inhaling air in gasps.

“You could have told me sooner!” He wiped his mouth and took a swig of his water. “I told him to fuck off and stop bugging you. I look like an idiot for trying to keep him off your case.” He shook his head and continued grumbling about her lack of consideration.

The blonde-haired boy and the curly-haired beauty hid their smiles behind their mugs.

_'One more class, one date, and then I get to wind down and do my homework. Ginny will get me, and we will drink until the morning.'_

A loud bang tore Hermione from the text before her. Brown eyes dragged over to a blonde woman sifting through multiple books in an exasperated fashion. 

Shaking her head, she brought her attention back to her studies. She was distracted by a vibration in her back pocket. Hermione couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face. She began packing her items into her bag. 

"Merde!"

Electric blue eyes met her vision and her stomach shifted uncomfortably. She finished packing up as she saw the blonde in her peripherals cleaning her mess. 

The crisp cold air of the night hit Hermione more bitterly than she had expected. There wasn’t a person in sight. The confusion was evident on the brunette’s face as she took out her phone. 

**_'Hey, any way you can take a cab? I’ve had one too many.'_ **

Hermione groaned into her hands as she sunk to sit on the cool steps of the library. She quickly yelped, realizing her mistake upon making contact with the freezing surface. The brunette sent back a curt message. She chose to remain seated as she rummaged through her bag for money. Hermione’s last choice was to use a cab or walk the 6 miles. 

“I did eat a big dinner, walking it is.” The petite hands rummaging through the bag never found the wallet. "I'm glad Viktor insisted on paying for dinner."

The dinner had been terrible. She couldn't imagine that holding a conversation would've been impossible, but she was proven wrong. Viktor was a gentleman who seemed genuinely interested in her, but he left the conversation one-sided. Hermione sighed.

_'It wasn't his fault that I have ridiculous expectations and standards.'_

“Mademoiselle, are you in need of a ride?” 

Hermione spun on her heels and came face to face with the beautiful blonde from earlier. Now that they were in close proximity, she realized how tall the blonde stood. 

She looked away from her intense stare and realized she never answered the question. 

“Cool.” She winced, embarrassed that she couldn't come up with the words necessary to answer the question.

A blonde brow rose in question. “I do insist. It is late, and I would remain amiss if you were to not make it home.” A brief pause was counted before sapphire eyes widened. “I did not mean that you wouldn’t arrive home-"

“Don’t worry." She smiled upon realizing the other girl was just as awkward. "I understood what you meant. If it isn't a bother, could you possibly give me a lift? I’ll gladly pay for fuel.” The blonde smiled and nodded her head. 

A soft slender hand came into Hermione’s eyesight. 

“My name is Fleur Delacour.” 

“I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you, Fleur.”

The soft slender hand took the brunette aback with its surprisingly firm grip. However, nothing prepared her for the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach to return with vengeance. 

Blue waves crashed into pools of honey.

A throat clearing brought their attention back to their hands. The brunette ripped her hand out of the grip and into the cold air. They both turned to see a heavy-set man smoking as he took a stroll. 

“Let us get to the vehicle! It is absolutely freezing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the story is Bellamione. However, it is a slow burn and a slow build.
> 
> I apologize if there are errors, but I hope you enjoyed the reading regardless!


	3. Distress

A set of keys slammed onto the counter, followed by the door. 

"Ginny!" The brunette stomped her way upstairs into her best friend's room. Along the path, she took in the clothes strewn hazardously on the furniture. 

Upon reaching her destination, she yanked the door open. Taking in the scene before her. 

"Hermione!" A thud as a body hit the floor in a mad attempt to cover their intimates. A blonde head poked up from the pillows. 

"Hello, Hermione." Accompanied by a little wave. 

"Luna." She nodded in acknowledgment turning to a red-faced Ginny peering over the bed. The redhead glanced back to look at Luna before pointedly glaring at Hermione. 

"Too many drinks, my ass." She spun out of the doorway and slammed the door. As she walked away, she heard her stand and walk back to the bed.

"Ginny, you can't believe we're going to continue after the aura in the house has completely shifted." A muffled groan left a triumphant smile on the brunettes face. 

Looking down at her phone, her smile widened. 

_ ' **I made it home. Thank you for the insightful discussion! I'm always on campus, feel free to ring me for a hang.'** _

**_'Scratch that it sounded awful as I reread it. I'd love to study together sometime.'_ **

Fleur was a happy accident. The young woman had offered a simple ride to Hermione, and they spent an hour seated in the car, talking about philosophy. The blonde woman had kept up and even participated in discourse that kept Hermione grounded. 

A warm feeling spread through her chest and into her stomach. It always felt nice meeting new people and making connections. 

Shaking her head, she sat at her desk in her room, typing out an email to her mother. She attached her transcript along with a photograph of her and her friends. 

In the photograph, she was hazardously on Ronald's back while Harry was linked with Draco. Ginny's face coming in from an unnatural angle, trying to take the photo and appear in it all at once. 

All of them with beaming smiles.

As she sent the email, she felt a chill run down her spine. It was a similar sensation she had felt earlier in the dining hall. 

"You're losing it." She groaned as she got up from her chair and went to her closet to sort through her clothes. After setting aside her clothing for the following day and shoes, she closed the door. 

The movement reflected on the mirror hanging from the door caught her eye, and she leaped back. 

A soft purring reached her ears. Shoulders visibly relaxed, and a held breath was exhaled. 

"It's just Crooks."

Going through the motions of her evening routine, she found herself staring in the mirror. 

Walking into the bathroom, she turned towards the mirror. She knew she was not unattractive by any means, but it would be nice to feel the confidence she saw in others. She knew it was a wistful wish because, upon inspection, she saw her imperfections before her beauty. Her lower lip was fuller than the upper one. Tan skin covered in tiny freckles. An old small but visible scar on her eyebrow and mouth, from falling into the fireplace, she remembers the stitches tugging. Brown eyes that held an emptiness she never could comprehend.

The petite brunette washed her face and continued with her routine. Afterword, she stood on the side of her bed. 

"I'm glad I have one of the comfiest beds in mankind to accommodate you, Crooks." Hermione managed to curl onto her now designated spot and fell into a fitful sleep. 

The following morning passed in a blur. The entire weekend passed by, and the brunette was only able to experience the ride.

"Mione? Are you sure everything is alright? You love Professor McGonagall's Monday morning lectures." The heavily freckled nose wrinkled in confusion. "Normally, you can't even contain yourself from answering her questions."

"Ginny, I am more than okay." Petite hands began fidgeting with the hair tie on their wrist. 

Ringing in Hermione's ears accomplished the task of irking her further, distracting her from her old nervous tic. "I don't want you to worry about me when you are dangerously close to losing athletic eligibility." Pointedly raising an eyebrow at her friend. The redhead frowned and narrowed her eyes. 

The brunette sighed and raised her hand in a dismissive motion. "I'm sorry; you are right, Ginny. That was completely uncalled for." The café around both girls was bustling and busy enough that it would deter any unwanted ears. 

"I just feel off." She hesitated and couldn't find the right words to explain her predicament. "I don't know how to explain it."

"The smartest person in the university can't explain something, Woah."

The brunette blushed ferociously and attempted to take the compliment. In the end, she glossed over it.

"I don't know, Ginny." She brought her cup up to her mouth to take a sip of her latte.

"Daddy issues?" The redhaired girl's smirk was wiped off of her face as she was on the receiving end of spewed coffee.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione moved to wipe the liquid off of the girl seated across from her. 

"All joking aside, I know that your father is a sore subject, you never talk about him." The girl paused. "Maybe, you are feeling restlessness from whatever unresolved feelings you have."

Actually, she doesn't remember much. 

"I wish I could talk about him, but I don't remember him." She paused with furrowed brows. "I don't remember much from my childhood."

"Maybe, you should look into therapy-"

A handheld up interrupting the redhead midsentence. "I've been down that route. My Mom has taken me to all types of therapists. She even took me to a doctor that specialized in recovered memory therapy." The brunette stopped. "She ignored all the comments from her friends and took me anyway. The highly contentious doctor couldn't help me recover a single memory."

"What do you mean?" An already confused expression morphed further. "You talk about your childhood. You said yourself that you rarely had friends in primary school."

The brunette sighed. "I just know what my Mother's told me." She laughed in discomfort at the pitying look on her friend's face. "I only recall growing up with my Mother." She sighed. "It's not my abandonment issues. I would tell you if it was, but I can just tell it isn't." 

The redhead looked at her friend over hesitantly and spoke. "You'd talk to me, right? I may not be serious all the time, but I care about you."

"I promise you're the first person I'm coming to when I decipher my emotional turmoil." Her laugh was cut short after seeing her friends frown. 

"Babe-" 

"I am serious." The brunette paused. "I appreciate you," a smirk on pouty pink lips spread, "Ginverva."

"You bitch!" 

A comfortable silence settled between the two. 

"Since you brought it up," a pregnant pause filled the silence, "will you help me write the paper for McGonagall?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes!


	4. Detached

Days passed by in a blur. 

_ 'Huh, Bill and Fleur, who would've thought.' _

Weeks breezed by without stopping.

_ ' _ **_ Why a 9, Hermione? Grading is significantly more lenient nowadays from when I was in University. Is there something distracting you? If you don't understand something, ask me next time.' _ **

Months rolled by taking Hermione in it's current. 

Rain welcomed the spring as the residual clumps of snow melted beneath the barrage of pelting drops. 

The rough patches of dirt gave way to green blades of grass and welcomed the chirping birds in search of food. 

Just as soon as spring had arrived, it was ushered out. 

Scorching heat brutalized the green grass into tragically dry, irregular patches of green.

Cool breezes rushed in and swept the heat out along with the fallen leaves. 

The wind blew through tangled ringlets furthering their disheveled appearance. 

The curly-haired brunette was dragged along with the current of events unfolding before her. As much as she tried, the disconnect worsened, making it difficult to remain active and in control of her actions. 

Murmuring, growing closer and louder, brought the brunette out of her detached state momentarily. 

"What do you think about meeting us at the Pub after work?" A heavy arm grounded the brunette in the conversation, as she flinched with sensory overload. 

The blonde gave her a peculiar look. "You alright? Is it because I've been spending more time with William? Ma moitié, you're still my priority."

The brunette chuckled and playfully shoved the taller blonde. 

She looked up and smiled in gratitude. Fleur's ability to snap her out of her detached states shining through at the moment. 

As she walked, she kept a careful eye on the uneven cobblestone up ahead on their path. 

She turned to look at the blonde, smiling. "I will try and catch up with the lot of you. Which pub tonight?" Her eyes taking in the beaming smile on her best friend's flawless face. 

A warm feeling spread from her chest toward her stomach. A giddiness that rarely reared its head. She loved all her friends equally, but Fleur understood her better than anyone. 

The silence was always comfortable, discussions always lively, debates turning into heated fighting, and knowing looks from the blonde settled her rather than the deciphering ones from the others. Hermione never had to try with Fleur. 

"Around the corner from Harry's." 

The brunettes laughter bubbled from her belly and spilled from her lips before she could stop herself. Her laughter grew in intensity at the confusion on fleurs' face. She couldn't believe that they'd try it, considering the outcome in the spring.

"Draco and Harry, in a constant pissing contest, challenged one another to a drinking marathon." Her laughter slowly transitioned into wheezes as she began to calm down enough to provide a vivid recounting. "Poor Abe tried to discourage it, but they insisted. Who was he to refuse the money from two utter idiots?" She remembers clearly her horror mirrored on Ginny's face as Draco vomited on Harry's lap. Harry heaving onto the bartop at the sight and smell on him. Ron's nose bleeding profusely from his rocketing blood pressure. She finished recounting the story to a disgusted blonde.

"Are they embarrassed or banned from returning?" 

She examined the hesitant look on her friend's face. "We left before Abe was able to react."

"They want to go back?!" An incredulous guffaw left the blonde. "-" a gust of air wheezed out of her mouth.

She shrugged at the words that couldn't find their way out of the shocked woman's throat. "I cannot possibly, explain to you what their logic or reasoning is nine out of ten times. I'm just along for the ride of their hooligan behavior and getting them out of difficult situations."

The blonde next to her appeared contemplative until she shook her head, turning back to look her in the eyes. She took in her unsatisfied eye furrow. 

"We're going to a pub near my place." 

Hermione predicting her friend's next move couldn't help but count the steps it took for her to find her words.

"What do they get out of it? Seriously, what can they possibly gain? What-Who do they think they are?"

Fifteen, it took fifteen steps for her shock to wear off. 

"I have work in twenty minutes Fleur. Either keep in step with me, or I'll see you at the pub." She saw Fleur rush to close the gap. It only took her three full strides, and she passed her up. 

Her triumphant smile fell as she struggled to pick up her pace (and her pride). 

"You were saying?" 

"I can still run a mile faster than you. Slow and steady wins the race." She resisted sticking her tongue out.

Hermione arrived winded, and with flushed cheeks five minutes before her shift began. She sat on her desk chair and picked up the list of tasks the previous aide had left on the desk. 

The routine kept her moving, and time went by, taking her with it. 

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked up, startled at the sudden appearance of a patron. 

"All the other checkouts are closed, I was wondering if I could check out? I lost track of time..."

She grabbed the book from the young man across from her. "Of course." She smiled upon seeing his uncertainty. "I get caught up in the magic of libraries as well. I was here for extended periods so frequently that they offered me a position." 

He smiled in return as she handed him back the book with the return information. "Thank you for your help." He spun around and dashed for the doors catching the librarian as she was about to lock the door.

Hermione quickly finished her tasks alongside Ms. Pince. 

"Good evening, Ms. Granger. Enjoy the weekend!" She waved as she began to walk in the direction of Fleur's. 

The night was rapidly chilling, indicating that fall was giving way to winter. 

A wave of nostalgia hit Hermione just as she ran into a body. Not prepared, her balance was threatened, and she put up her hands to cushion the fall. A firm grip on her upper arm held her up. With shaky breaths, she looked up into a pair of dark eyes, she could've sworn were black. 

"Careful, love" The brunettes breath hitched and couldn't find the words to formulate any response. 

Hermione had always been proud to credit herself with never objectifying another human being. 

However, at the moment, she threw her title out. She roamed her eyes across the person's entire being. 

High cheekbones, pouty lips, and a perfect hourglass figure. Skin so delicate, and poreless it rivaled porcelain. The pouty lips moved to form a smirk setting the brunette's cheeks aflame. 

Hermione's mouth opened without her permission and asked the most pressing question in her head. 

"Who are you?" The heat in her face traveled down to her neck. She glanced down and realized her hand was clutching the coat of this woman. She immediately ripped her hand away. Her head was pounding, and her eyes were watering with the flood of emotions she couldn't comprehend. Elation, fear, and yearning? 

A pale slim hand gripped her chin and lifted her sight. Her vision swirled, her breath coming in short gasps. 

"Don't cry. You know I get sad when you cry."

At that moment, Hermione's eyes did what they knew best. They rolled, this time back into her head, and her body fell into black. 


	5. Level-headed

A burst of sensations hit the brunette all at once. Suddenly, waking up had a different meaning.

Thoughts were incoherent, and she'd been rendered incapable of conjuring an explanation for where she was and what had happened in the first place. 

She looked down at her hand, gripping her chest, trying to stop her heart from palpitating out of her body and on to the bed before her. 

Sweat formed on her brow, a sensation that had escaped her mind. 

The duvet felt plush underneath her other hand's fingertips. 

The room was deafening in its silence.

Hermione stood, the carpet tickling the pads of her bare feet. 

Tickle, she hadn't used that word in a while. 

Her head throbbed in retaliation for the sidetracking. She gritted her teeth, walking towards the door. 

Each pulse of pain from her temples rushing to the nape of her neck, in tandem with each of her steps. 

As she ripped open the door, the sunlight coming in from the hallway window ambushed her.

"Ginny!" She slid down outside, right beside her roommate's bedroom door. A groan left her lips as her overheating back met the chilled wall. 

The door opened beside her. Ginny appeared in her line of sight. Hair disheveled, clothes askew, and retainer in place. 

" 'Mione?" 

Gasping breaths from her mouth drew the redhead's attention towards her crumpled on the ground. She groaned as a signature clammy hand pushed her hair back from her forehead, gently pushing her against the wall. 

"Christ," Ginny ran in the direction of the bathroom, "are you mental? Why didn't you wake me up sooner?!" 

Hermione winced at the sudden increase in volume, and the unintended insult. She could barely even fret over it because the pulsing persisted. Her brain felt on fire. Her eyeballs felt like lava, melting into her skull.

"Open." A hand deposited a tablet on her tongue. "Tilt." She obliged and felt the stream of water carry the tablet farther, prompting her to swallow it. "Do you want to stay here for a moment or go back to your bed?" 

Hermione opened her eyes slightly to take in the sight of a concerned Ginny. "Bed."

Her feet lightly grazed the carpet as Ginny carried most of her weight to the bed. 

She deposited her gently on the edge of the mattress and helped take off her coat and sweat-drenched shirt in the same motion. She finished the top half by removing her bra and placing a simple tank on her. 

Hermione groaned as she was softly pushed back onto the bed. Her jeans zipper came down swiftly and as fast as her pants. 

She curled onto her side and sighed as she felt the exquisite sensation of the crisp duvet on her overheated body. 

"If you need anything from Luna or me, smack the wall." She kissed her temple, and Hermione listened to her quietly close the door. 

Her entire weekend had been spent in and out of sleep—the self-diagnosed migraine keeping her in bed. 

On Sunday night, her routine shifted. The pain lessened, and she was able to consume a glass of water and some crackers without upheaving them. 

Sprawled on her floor beside Crookshanks in the dark, she began to gain clarity. 

The throbbing had subsided substantially into small sporadic stabbings. 

Sitting up in the dark, Hermione made her way towards her desk for the bottle of water. As she gulped it down, a familiar chilling sensation gripped her shoulders and shook her out. 

The hairs on her nape and her arms stood. She made her way to the bed and saw Crooks had burrowed farther beneath the bedframe. She settled into the covers and closed her eyes.

"So," her eyes snapped open, and dread invaded her body like a bucket of cold water, "are we going to read, or not?" Lips grazed her ear as the husky voice spoke into it, and arms slid over her midsection, pulling her back into a distinctly feminine body. 

She had never fallen speechless.

She'd never had a stranger in her bed too.

Until this very moment, she hadn't had a lot of firsts. 

Her train of thought derailed by the sensation of a hand tugging her midsection to turn around. She rotated without processing any of the events that had occurred up until then. 

Blood red lips greeted her as they curved over perfect teeth. 

Full perfectly shaped eyebrows relaxed. The accompanying storm grey eyes pierced through the brunette with their stare. 

"Bella." It came out a devotion. Shocking her, as she realized it came from her mouth. She felt her chest tighten, and her breathing shaking the bed.

The smile spread further revealing dimples, that tugged at Hermione's mind. 

"Who else?" 

The brunette's mind flooded with questions—a need to understand and unravel her connection with the woman before her.

Her desire for self-preservation was abandoned, and in its place, she took up her curiosity.

"I know you," a pause, "how?"

Two dark eyebrows tensed, and the smile dampened. "An old friend." Her stare traveled across the brunette's face. "You called for me."

Hermione gradually began to process her current predicament, and her heart rate spiked. 

Almost as if the other woman sensed what was about to occur, she tightened her hold. 

The woman's action only served to stir the brunette's sense of self-preservation further.

"Let go!" 

"Stop it! Be quiet!" She whispered, aggressively maintaining her hold.

"Ginny!" A hand shot up to cover her mouth. Thinking quickly and taking advantage of one hand on her mouth, the brunette used her feet to shove away from the woman. 

She hit the floor and turned towards the door. Strong, but slim fingers gripped her ankle, yanking her back. "Ginny!" came out as a yelp.

Kicking her foot back to keep the assailant off of her limb, she cried in triumph at hearing the stomping on the stairs. A firm push from her leg granted her the freedom to dash for the door. 

She opened the door, crashing into her roommate. 

"What's wrong?" Ginny looked concerned and confused, standing next to Hermione. 

Hermione struggling to find the words gestured into her bedroom. Ginny holding the fire poker in her left hand, slowly walked into the room. 

The brunette couldn't believe her eyes as her friend pulled back the covers to find nothing. 

Ginny looked at Hermione for an explanation. 

Looking at her options, she had two choices looking like a lunatic or playing it off as an overreaction. She preferred the outcome of the latter. 

Witnessing the patience wearing thin on the red-haired girls' face, she panicked and spoke without thought. 

"I saw a spider." 

An incredulous pause filled the space between the girls.

"You've got to be fucking joking." The girl threw her arms in the air and stormed out of the room, stomping down the stairs. "Stop spending so much damn time with Ron. Bunch of fucking babies..." Hermione heard her continue the rant as she finished walking down the stairs towards the living room. 

The brunette hesitantly walked back into the bedroom and closed the door with her back. She walked towards her closet, picking up an old Model UN trophy, and threw open the closet door. 

She jumped back and swung as black descended upon her. 

She blushed when she realized it was her black coat that Ginny had probably thrown in there in her haste to help dress Hermione for bed. 

Hermione closed the closet door, placing the trophy back and hanging the coat up. Once finished, she looked up at her reflection and shook her head. She's genuinely lost it. 

She spun on her heel and right into a mess of black curls.

Arms steadied her, gripping her waist.

A heady and evocative smell invaded her senses. 

_Smaller hands, gripping those same black curls, her hands._

"Let's try this again."

_Smaller hands, her hands, joyfully awakening their volume, as the mouth across from her provided assurance of her golden-brown ringlets._

A gasp left her lips before she could stop it. Her gaze shot up to meet dark grey eyes. 

"Hello, little one." 

A predatory smile crept onto her blood-red lips. 

"How are you here?" Hermione paused and rephrased. Questions overtook her mind. "My mom said I had an imaginary friend, but I couldn't recall."

"You needed me." She pulled the girl closer, sighing onto the top of her head. "So, I came here for you."

The brunette tensed at the affection of someone she hadn't seen since...

"Am I going insane?"

"What?" A scoff escaped onto her hair, making her shiver. "Not at all, this is completely normal." 

"Why couldn't I see you when Ginny was here."

Hermione had failed to notice the minor hitch in the woman's breath as she spoke. The second nail in the figurative coffin. 

"That was all you. It's probably you compartmentalizing me." 

Hermione shook with a chuckle, figures, a creation of her mind would be rational and insightful enough to ground her. 

The dubious thoughts fell off to the sides as she realized she had remembered something from her childhood. 

Her arms wrapped around the woman holding her. She melted into the familiar embrace. A feeling she hadn't felt in years returned, anticipation. 

What happens now? 

Maybe she was the key to her mental blocks. Perhaps she'd help her move past the chronic sensation of emptiness. 

"I missed you." The words slipped past her lips without her permission. She relaxed further into the embrace, the body holding them both upright tightened their hold. 

"As have I."

She followed after the dark-haired woman as she led them to the bed. She paid no mind as the woman lay beside her pulling her into an embrace. She ignored the rational part of her brain and gave into the comfort of arms holding her.

As if sensing her internal conflict, the older woman spoke, "Sleep, I'll be here tomorrow." Her head, resting in the crook of Bella's neck, buzzed with the gentle vibrations of her voice.

Eyes closed, and breaths slowed. Hermione was soon deep asleep and clinging to a wide-awake woman. 

"We'll be alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize and take full responsibility for any or all mistakes. I am not the best, but merely trying to make the best of this Quarantine. I, however, do welcome feedback, commentary, and input. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoy it so far. The rating will change in the next chapter or the following as a heads up.


	6. Rendezvous

A scraping sensation woke up, Hermione. Eyes blurred as they opened she took in the figure at the end of the bed. 

The orange blob aggressively pawing at her duvet covered feet.

She yawned as she momentarily relaxed back into the sea of pillows on her bed. 

"Good morning."

"Morning."

Brown eyes ripped open, and her head yanked backward to take in the scene before her.

"Are we really going to do this again?" 

Flashes of memory from the night before slammed into the brunette's mind causing a sporadic stabbing in her temples.

"I thought it was a dream." She looked over the woman beside her. "A hyperrealistic dream."

A smile spread on the flawless face before her. "Nope," she paused, "class or skipping?"

The brunette thought about her choices and decided on the latter. 

"I need to run a couple of errands." She looked up into the bold stare across from her. "We'll talk later?" Her own voice sounded uncertain. How does she address her imaginary friend? Can she dismiss her? 

"I'll be here, just call when you need me." 

A small kiss place was placed on her forehead, the alien sensation lulling her eyes closed. Soft, supple lips departed, and she opened her eyes to stare at the empty space before her. 

The moment of silence was cut short.

A thud sounded on the floor, most likely coming from the room beside her. She listened carefully to the sound of stomping and watched as her door was ripped open. 

"Why didn't you wake us up?!" The redhead threw herself onto the empty spot beside the brunette. 

Side by side, they both lay staring up at the ceiling. 

She heard the shifting of the bedsheet and felt her friend's stare boring into her face. 

Taking the hint, she turned her head to meet Ginny's.

"Want to get brunch?" A smile spread across the brunette's face, and for the first time in a while, she felt at ease. 

It had taken them approximately an hour to leave the house. 

Ginny got her car keys ready, stood at the door, and began to holler. "I am leaving in less than a minute, with or without you in the car."

Hermione had been merely changing the water in Crooks bowl when she heard the threat. She knew what the youngest Weasley was capable of and ran by the orange lump on the couch, but not before patting its head in goodbye. 

The entire car ride was spent listening to Ginny's soothing music. She was able to focus on her problem at hand. 

Hermione was able to come up with a handful of research questions to aid her in her quest for answers. 

Well, she hoped that they'd aid her. 

What causes imaginary friends? Is it possible to have them at her current age, a 20-year-old woman? Why does she feel at ease with her? Is she losing it, and this is her mind's last resort to salvage her sanity?

She recalled being told that imaginary friends were standard at a young age. Once she had begun socializing, her mother said that her phase had ended. 

There it is.

That's a possible solution, socialize more. 

For the other three pressing questions, she had nothing. 

Hermione groaned, she needed to head to the nearest quiet place soon. 

A hand waved in front of her face, and she flinched at the proximity of the clammy hand.

She went back to her breakfast.

"You need to find yourself a girlfriend that will drive your ass around all day." 

The brunette groaned. "I don't need a girlfriend or a boyfriend to drive me around." She turned towards the girl seated diagonally from her and shot her a smirk. "I have you to drive me."

"I should've known that wasn't going to work." Ginny's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm going to be straight with you," she paused, "well honest with you. I think you've been feeling off because you're ready to date again." She saw the brunettes mouth about to open in protest. "Serious dating, one date, and then ghosting the individual doesn't count."

Hermione couldn't help but feel cornered with the direction the conversation took. An incredulous look towards Luna, who was seated directly across from her, was greeted by the girl's best neutral stare.

She was unable to come up with excuses because, in the back of her mind, she knew Ginny was right. Hermione was aware that sometimes she could be callous, but it was normal, right? 

Probably not because her childhood imaginary friend had returned. Obviously, she was doing something wrong. 

She had no excuses. She looked up to one of her Childhood friends and smiled at her. "You're right." 

Ginny, who had been drinking from her third mimosa of the morning, spewed the drink out of her nose and onto the table dousing Hermione alongside herself. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her friend's face was red, eyes watered from the pain, and her cough subsided. "You said I was right." 

"Ginny's right, Hermione. You usually put up a fight and frequently become defensive. Sometimes you go so far as to lash out at others." She paused to drink from her orange juice. "How's your mother?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed before she could process the line of questioning.

"Are you-"

"I promise I'm not psychoanalyzing you." A suspect pause. "It seems fitting you'd think so." 

A hand shot up, making the redhead flinch. "Check, please!" called Hermione. 

The rest of the morning had passed by fast. After brunch had finished, Hermione had made the walk towards the nearest cafe. A french patisserie that doubled as a tranquil location to work productively. 

Pushing through the revolving door, she basked in the smell of coffee and baked goods. 

Still full from her meal at breakfast, she took a seat at the only open table to work. She'd order something later. 

The search engine flashed before her, and Hermione had no idea where to begin. Glancing in her peripheries to assure no one was within sight of her screen, she began. 

The sound of the cozy establishment kept her focused on the material. The brunette quickly going through a multitude of avenues came to the same conclusion. 

She came to horrifying conclusions. 

She'd have to kill the tulpa herself, or she would have to sever connections, gradually allowing her memory to decay them. 

The brunette's stomach twisted at the thought of killing her directly or indirectly, although she could rationalize that it wasn't a living creature.

Was there a third option?

Suddenly, a shadow cast over her computer and her face. Hermione looked up in time to see lean, slender fingers clasp the chair in front of her. Her gaze followed the arm up toward a vaguely familiar blonde. 

Electric blue eyes met her vision, and her stomach shifted uncomfortably. 

A wave of Deja Vu smacked into the brunette. 

"Do you mind if I sit here?" The brunette nodded and couldn't help but stare. "You seemed the nicest." Brown eyebrows rose into a mess of curls. 

"I mean-" the girl had just finished sitting down and seemed ready to bolt. 

"It's alright." She smiled through the continuous wave of recognition. "You just caught me off guard. I don't mind if you sit here." 

"Well," the girl-woman continued, "I promise, I'm normally more prepared and less insecure." A forced chuckle escaped past perfect teeth. 

Hermione only grew more confused. Her overly expressive face prompted a small blush on the blonde. 

The blonde visibly deflated. "I am trying to flirt with you, but I'm failing horribly." She gestured around their area. "There's like three empty tables."

"Oh, I honestly hadn't noticed." The already weak smile on the blonde's face fell completely. 

"I meant the seats! I hadn't been paying attention to anything going on before you approached."

"Oh." The blonde's blush left as she gathered her bearings. 

A soft slender hand came into Hermione's eyesight. 

Another wave of Deja Vu rolling over her, and her churning stomach. 

"I'm Gabrielle Delacour." 

The wave crashed down into a bout of laughter spilling from the brunette's lips. 

An offended look passed by the blonde's face, and she crossed her arms, pushing upward. Gabrielle's movement drew Hermione's attention, the action causing the shirt to ride down, exposing more smooth skin. 

Brown eyes snapped up to meet blue eyes swimming with mirth. 

A blush ran from Hermione's cheeks, down her neck, and probably to her chest. 

"I wasn't laughing at you." She gathered her thoughts. "I'm Hermione Granger?" It came out sounding like a question because she wasn't sure if Fleur considered her important enough to talk about to her sister. 

A pink tint spread across high cheekbones.

"Of course, I would run into Fleur's sister at a French establishment she introduced me to." She voiced her inner musings to the woman in front of her. 

"I have a name. I'm Gabrielle." An eyebrow rose in challenge. "If you're going to reduce me to my familial ties, then it's important you know I am the most attractive and intelligent Delacour." 

"I've been incredibly rude, I apologize." She cleared her throat. "It's nice to meet you." A genuine smile spread across her face.

Blue eyes roamed across her face, invasive in their search. Search for what? 

The blonde's face lit up in silent satisfaction, and she reached into her pocket to take out her phone. 

"Let's start over, shall we?" 

The brunette nodded and couldn't help but smile at the infectious energy the blonde oozed. 

Hermione blanched as the blonde got up, leaving the shop. 

Only for her to come back in before the revolving door stopped spinning. 

She looked up and walked at a pace that made the brunette think she wasn't going to stop. Just as she'd come up next to the brunettes table, she dropped her phone on the tile. The impact of the drop slid her phone right into Hermione's foot. 

Confused, the brunette picked up and handed the surprisingly still intact phone to a smirking blonde. 

The blonde looked down at her phone, and her face fell. 

Guilt tugged at the brunette. 

"Is there something wrong with it?"

"Yeah." with a somber face, the blonde swiped her screen and moved to show the brunette. The display looked intact, a front camera without a crack. 

"Your numbers not in it." 

The smile that spread on the brunette's face was blinding in its beauty. 

  
As brown eyes gazed into hopeful blues, she found the answer to her question.

There is a third option. 

She could keep busy, socialize, and date. That's why she'd come back, right? Bella had even said she came back because she'd called for her. 

She was lonely, but if she wasn't anymore. Then she'd simply go away on her own. 

"Oh." 

The blonde grew nervous as the brunette turned to power down her computer. 

  
"Well, there's something wrong with my vision." She smiled as the blonde raised her eyebrows in her periphery.

"What's wrong with it?"

"You're not in it." 

A peal of beautiful laughter halted the conversation in the shop, a warm feeling settling in her stomach, masking the churning from earlier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Reviews and the Kudos! I appreciate them and the fact that people seem to enjoy reading it.
> 
> Sorry for any or all mistakes!


	7. Relaxed

The brunette's cheeks hurt from the smile stuck on her face. The younger Delacour sister had quickly wiggled her way into Hermione's good graces. The same calm aura that Fleur seemed to possess reflected by the slightly rounded cheeks of her sister. 

The morning bled into the afternoon, and Hermione realized she had to leave for work soon, or risk being late. 

"I had a wonderful time, and it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Oh, I'm sorry I took up all of your time." 

"Don't worry." A sly smile slipped onto her lips, not quite a smirk. "You could make it up to me by walking with me to work."

The blonde launched herself up and threw her bookbag over her arm. 

"Let's get going then!" She happily exclaimed. 

Side by side, they made the small journey to the campus library. As they walked, the brunette felt tense. Refusing to give in to her hyperactive mind, she turned to her companion. 

"Are you enjoying the philosophy program? I've heard great things; it was my second choice." 

Blue eyes lit up in excitement. "I love it. My entire family never ceases to tease me, but philosophy is fundamental. The classics are, of course, essential, but the new wave of Theory is pushing the bounds of systemic constructs that are already faulty."

She continued in the same breath, impressing the brunette. "Without philosophers, who are often labeled mental, people wouldn't question the establishment. Granted, we're way ahead of our time, and our work is posthumously praised. But we don't do it for the praise." 

Hermione realized at this moment, she was attracted to her.

"I agree. I live for Political Theory, but my real passion is activism."

"You don't need schooling for activism. Granted, it would help, but you don't seem the type to need help learning."

"I know." Her mother was appalled when she'd told her. She still can hear her mother's words echoing in her mind. 

_"That's not a respectable career. If you want to change the system, you go through the system, not dismantle it."_

Blue eyes softened in understanding. 

"The first book I read on Ideology dismantled my perception. I own three copies if you're interested in borrowing one." 

Gabrielle laughed. "Author?" 

"Fannon." Blue eyes flashed in recognition. 

"I own one of his works." 

"I've been gradually collecting different editions of his most famous work, if you happen to know any credible book collectors, let me know." 

"I'll be on the lookout." 

Hermione spent the duration of her shift, ignoring her tasks and focusing on the books she'd collected to conduct more ineffective research. 

Book after book cataloged Tulpas as non-threatening and merely a creation. With zero Instances of people having Tulpas as their imaginary childhood friend. 

Hermione couldn't understand why she had one. 

Usually, people were self-aware enough to avoid having a tulpa. The material she found online confirming that she could sever ties. 

One question continued to plague her mind. When did she flesh out an independent person, with their own identity and Will? Surely, she'd remember if she did, and doubted she was that capable as a child.

"Excuse me." Hermione looked up from her book. 

Viktor Krum stood before her in all his glory.

"Viktor!" The brunette scrambled to clear her desk and hide her mortification. "How have you been?" She managed to choke out. 

"I've been alright," he paused in hesitation, looking for the right words, "have you been avoiding me?"

Hermione shook her head in denial. "My phone broke-" as she began her phone vibrated on the desk beside her, drawing two pairs of eyes towards it—a message from Gabrielle. 

"Oh."

"Viktor, I'm incredibly sorry." She winced. That was probably the last thing he wanted, a rushed apology. "I think you're an incredibly genuine person and an even better listener." She wracked her mind for an excuse, finding one hoping it would stick. "But I have recently discovered I find women attractive." Not necessarily a lie, she did recently just start finding people attractive.

Viktors' eyes widened, and his shoulders relaxed. "I understand." He moved to leave, but he shook his head out, staying in place. "Thank you for being honest with me. I hope I didn't push you to share something personal. I just wanted to make sure I didn't offend you."

The brunette flooded with guilt, drowning in it. She'd avoided this man for months because she was too much of a coward to be forward. 

"We're more than okay." She gestured to the book in his large hands. "Would you like me to check you out?" She blushed. 

He smiled a dimpled smile that makes all the girls swoon, everygirl but the brunette. 

He handed her the book, and with the same hand, gestured at her phone. "Was that who you're interested in?" 

A smile spread at the memory of the blonde she'd just met earlier that day. "Yeah, she's incredible." She found herself saying before she could process it. 

"I'm glad." He grabbed the book from her hands and waved goodbye. "I'll see you around."

The brunette felt like a small weight had lifted off of her shoulders. There were still tons of baggage left, but one less problem was better than stagnation. 

Hermione decided to put her materials back and focus on her work tasks. As she made her rounds with her list, she felt her hair standing at attention. 

"Ms. Granger," the brunette startled and looked in the direction of the voice, "would you mind putting away this last cart?" She gestured to the hazardously piled cart at the other end of the aisle. 

"Of course." She didn't mind. If anything, the brunette was relieved for the excuse that prolonged her stay at work, preventing her from going home. 

"Thank you, Dear." After the woman left, she checked her clock. She had half an hour to put away the cart. A chilling sensation ran down her back, and she quickly glanced around her, looking for the source. 

"Looking for me?" 

The brunette walked back into the shelf, unable to locate the woman. 

She quietly walked down the aisle, always looking behind her, over her shoulders, and through the stacks of books. 

"Colder." 

"Bellatrix, please. I am at work." She hissed and stepped towards the bathrooms, two aisles back. 

"Warm." Her feet stuttered, and she began to fall. 

Hands shot out to minimize the injuries sure to follow. 

Two strong arms enveloped her, one arm across her collarbone and the other wrapped around her midsection. 

"You never grew out of that phase, lovely." 

"What are you doing here?" She looked towards the front, where Pince was finishing her administrative tasking. 

Shoulders shrugged, rubbing their owner's chest against the brunette's back. The brunette ripped herself out of the grip turning to the black-haired beauty. 

Grabbing her wrist, she dragged the woman into the bathroom. Along the way, the woman had maneuvered her hand to intertwine their fingers together.

Hermione quickly let go once inside the bathroom. "Please, just refrain from popping out into places unannounced." She looked the older woman over. 

"Can you do that?"

An eye-roll that rivaled the strength of a 13-year-old's adolescent angst triggered an angry reaction from her. 

"I thought you came and went as I pleased." 

"I do." She pointedly stared back. "I'm still here." 

"I'm asking you to leave." 

"That's debatable." 

The brunette ran a hand through her tangled mess of curls—one moment from pulling her hair out. 

"I need to finish my work. I will be home soon." She looked into the neutral stare before her. "I have questions, and I need time to formulate them." 

"Who's the girl you're interested in?" 

"Jesus Christ, Bella. Please, let me work, and we'll discuss this later." 

She left the bathroom and searched for the cart. 

Rushing to finish the task within fifteen minutes wasn't a pretty sight. 

Overheated and a mess, she donned her coat in the front foyer, waiting for the librarian. 

"Dear, are you alright?" 

"Yeah, I just missed a small stack and had to rush to finish it." 

Madam Pince walked through, holding the door for the brunette to walk through. As she locked the door, Hermione felt the telltale signs of the dark-haired woman. 

"Good evening, Ms. Granger." As she said goodbye, she sped in the opposite direction towards her house. 

"Why are we going so fast?" 

"Hello, Bella." 

"She's ancient."

"Please, just a bit of silence." The brunette exhaled as she heard nothing in response.

She took in the sounds the bushes that resembled tumbleweed made as the wind blew through them.

It was nice while it lasted. 

"I took this book."

The brunette spent the entire walk to the house, lecturing the woman. 

As she finished getting ready for bed in the bathroom, she saw her reflection. 

Skin the color of warm honey, and a scarred eyebrow met her stare.

She contemplated putting her hair up in her satin scarf but thought against it. She'd wash her hair tomorrow. 

She knocked twice in Ginny's door as she passed. Once in her room, she heard two knocks back bidding her goodnight. 

Bella was lying on the bed, propped up on the headboard. She patted the spot beside her.

As she made her way to the bed, she took in the clothes Bella was wearing, realizing she had donned one of Hermione's oversized sleep shirts. 

Hermione sat down in the middle of the bed, facing her. 

Perfect lips, not too full, spread into a warm smile.

"I know you're bursting at the seems to ask me your questions. So I'll preface by saying I only know as much as you know." 

"Do you feel pain?" 

"Yes, but substantially more than you do." The brunette nodded for her to continue. 

"I feel what you are experiencing. If you're in distress, I can feel it—physical and emotional pain." 

"If I asked you to leave and never come back?"

"No can do." Black curls shook with her head. "You have to kill me, or just manage with me here. I don't make the rules." She pointedly looked at the brunette. 

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to do." 

A comfortable silence settled over the women, and they both just took in the other's appearance. 

Grey eyes trailed across her face. "Were you out in the sun today?"

Hermione nodded, distracted by those eyes. 

"You're glowing." She continued. "Obviously, your complexion is beautiful, but the sun accented your freckles and the warm undertone of your complexion." 

Hermione darkened with her flush. "Thank you." She was unable to think, reeling from the unwarranted compliment. 

A pale hand reached out, grasping her wrist, pulling her up beside the older woman. 

Firm arms embraced her, and she immediately relaxed in the familiar embrace. An aroma of roses with a hint of lemon invaded her senses. 

"It'll be okay. I'm yours, and you're mine. Don't overthink it." 

"My mother was right," the tensing body went unnoticed by the younger woman, "I haven't been trying harder." 

"My grades fell, my friends slipped, and my love life is nonexistent. I'm having a midlife crisis at twenty." Firmly grasping the woman's shirt with her hand as if she could ground herself. 

"I have dinner with her later this week. She's going to take one look at me and know."

A finger pulled her chin upward to look into swirling eyes. 

"You're panicking over nothing." Her breath blew across the girl's face and fluttering eyelids. "There's always time to figure things out. An abundance of time to panic, but not to enjoy moments of peace. Let's read a book and wind down."

Grabbing the stolen book from beside her, she glanced back at the brunette. The younger woman seemed exhausted, so Bella took the first chapter knowing she'd be asleep before the end. 

As she slept, the dark-haired beauty took in the details of her face cataloging it.

A feeling she hadn't felt in a long time tightened in her throat, choking her with its aggression. 

A single expletive sounded in the room.

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! 
> 
> Again, I apologize for any or all mistakes, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. :)


	8. Awakening

Green eyes bore down brown eyes. 

"Hi, Mom." 

An aging woman sat before the brunette, frown lines accented by a downset mouth. 

"Hermione," critical eyes roamed over the brunette's appearance, "you look exhausted." 

The brunettes straightened back, sagged at the comment. "I've been busy with school and work." Trying to avoid further conflict, she continued. "You look good, Mom."

The young server arrived to take their orders and deliver their drinks. Hermione tossed him a thankful smile, knowing her mother's intimidating demeanor.

The thin line of her mother's lips curled upward in an attempt to smile. The tight grip on the glass of wine, indicating she wasn't pleased. 

"How have you been?" The brunette discreetly tried to shift the conversation off of her and onto her mother. The tension in her shoulders lessened as the woman took the bait. 

"Work's been gruesome." She paused, trying to gather her words. "People don't care for their teeth. Smoking and candy have gradually decayed and eroded beautiful smiles. Do you remember Mrs. Robin?" 

The brunette nodded, unaware as to where the conversation was heading. 

"I had to pull two molars because of her incessant need to snack on candies."

The brunette unintentionally pulled a face at her mother's tactlessness. Noticing the green eyes glaring at her, she quickly straightened her demeanor. 

Hopefully, she would ignore it and continue with her story. The brunette looked into her mother's eyes, realizing in an instant that she could only dream. 

"Honestly, Hermione." She placed her glass down firmly on the tablecloth. "Must you always incite fights between us. You don't live at home anymore, could you not just be happy to see me?"

"I am happy to see you."

"Then why pull a face?"

At that very moment, the server arrived with their meals.

The scraping sound on silverware meeting the plate rang in the brunette's ear. She felt the stare on top of the scraping, and before she could stop herself, it bubbled over, prompting her to take the bait right into the trap. 

"Why do you have to criticize her? She's a nice woman, and should you even be talking about this with me? This is a piece of private information." During this, the brunette's hand reached up to gesture, but she thought better of it, knowing full well her mother would take it as a sign of aggression. Her hand curled into her neck and began playing with the curls at the nape. 

Flashing green eyes narrowed, and relaxed after a moment. 

"You're right. That was incredibly inconsiderate of me." 

Hermione exhaled in relief and continued eating. 

A stare traveled across her appearance. "Why don't you straighten your hair? I'd always said you'd look even prettier with it relaxed." 

The brunette's armor cracked, she had to shove down the pain from the indirect insult. 

"We've gone over this mom," a million times actually, "I like my natural hair. Grandma would've wanted me to wear it natural." 

Her mother's eyes flashed at the mention of her grandma. "She's not here anymore," she paused just enough for the brunette to notice, "and neither is your dad. You can wear your hair any way you want." 

"This is how I want it." 

A quiet and uncomfortable silence filled the space between the two women. Hermione kept her eyes on her plate, while her mother's eyes focused on the bottom of the glass. 

"How's school?" 

"It's going well!" The brunette smiled. "The department chair for my program is writing a recommendation letter for a small advocacy group I'm applying to next month." 

"That's wonderful," a genuine smile graced the older woman, "does your grade average matter in their decision?" 

As soon as the brunette felt hope rise through her, it came crashing down twice as hard. 

"Yes, I have an excellent average, and I also submitted my paper on William Cuffay. They emailed me back, saying that everyone in the office was impressed with the analysis." 

"Was that the one you had me revise?" The brunette nodded and continued to chew her mouthful. 

"Don't you think that's a bit too bold? You're assuming you won't offend people; you call out an entire group of individuals."

"If they become offended, then they obviously lack integrity." She paused to take a sip of her water. "C'mon, Mom."

"Why do you insist on making everything about race?" 

Hermione froze, and at the moment, felt her anger surfacing, not understanding why.

"Don't ask if you don't want to know." 

"You're just like your father." 

The brunette flinched backward as if slapped—her mother's intentional insult stabbing through her chest. 

Anger swelled in her stomach, rising upwards through her chest, her breathing increasing to maintain her calm. 

Her vision became blinded by tears threatening to fall, not from sadness but bottled resentment.

Words shed kept locked in her mind, at the forefront of her mind, getting ready to leave her mouth. 

"I've always done everything for your well being. All you both did was throw my love back into my face by leaving me." 

"Enough! I just came here for one meal together." Swallowing the thickening saliva in her mouth, she continued.

"If you can't accept me for who I am, then I will not be held responsible for leaving." Picking up her handbag, she took out enough money to cover the bill and the check, calmly placing it on the table. 

"It was nice seeing you," Hermione got up, donning her coat, "I'll see you next year for the next attempt?" 

She paused, taking in her mother's fair skin and green eyes, sighing as she failed to note an ounce of remorse. 

The brunette swiftly left the building and began to run without a particular direction in mind. 

Gasping and sobbing from running and her emotions, she slid onto a cold bench. 

Tears fell freely, and sobs grew louder—the dark and empty park providing sanctuary from the world. 

The brunette felt the sensation before she inhaled the familiar aroma. A delicate hand grasped her head, placing it onto the crux of an ethereal neck while their counterpart gripped the brunette's thigh, bringing her onto the older woman's lap. 

Bella began to soothe the younger woman by rubbing her back and scalp. 

Sobs dwindled into hiccups—the younger woman relaxing into the mold of the person holding her. 

Bella began to croon as she soothed her. "Please, don't cry. You know I get sad when you cry."

The soft, husky voice in her ear, relaxing Hermione. 

The brunette rubbed her wet nose on the neck before her. 

"Did you just wipe your snot on me?"

"You signed up for this." The dark-haired woman hummed contemplatively. 

"We should key her car." 

A light tinkling of laughter brought a smile on the black-haired beauty's face. 

"I just don't understand, Bella." She brought her head up to meet the older woman's eyes. "Was it always like this?" 

"My father, he just left, and my mother never fails to remind me I look just like him." Her brow furrowed, and her frown deepened. "How could someone so driven, leave his family?" 

The silent question hung between them. 

How could he leave her with her mother? 

"Is my mother, right?" She searched through grey eyes. "Am I idolizing a man that abandoned his family?"

A dark look passed the older woman's face, and her grip on her back tightened. 

"Your father was a dedicated person. Everything he did, he did for you." She paused. "I don't recall what happened, but don't listen to her hatred, fueled words. You're as much your mother, like your father." 

The woman deflated, even the creation of her mind couldn't grasp the strength to address the issue.

"I wish I could give you the closure you desperately desire, but I don't know." The words rang false in the brunettes head, but she shook herself out as she got up from the bench. 

"I understand, you know whatever I know." 

The dark-haired woman nodded. 

"I'll be home later. I'm going to visit my friends."

Bella nodded in understanding. 

The brunette turned her back and made the journey towards Harry's place.

The feeling of confusion remained.

Her father was a person invested in social change, and her mother had a passion for dentistry?

What about herself?

All of her life, in all of her social circles, she never truly belonged. 

When she'd met Ron and Harry, they had welcomed her into their social circle. The usual teasing took place, always revolving around her bookworm type of personality. 

Their personalities occasionally clashed, but always over actions that the boys acted on in moments of stupidity. 

What else did they have in common?

Ginny was her first female friend, who she'd been able to discuss her female issues with and complain about the misogyny in their society. Anytime the brunette complained about incidents of being fetishized by men in the bars, she simply brushed over the topic. Besides being women, what did they have in common? 

Draco befriended her after belittling her constantly in their shared philosophy course, never providing an explanation or a simple apology for the antagonizing behavior. What did he have in common with her?

Fleur and Gabrielle both understood her rationale and logic. The three could spend hours speaking about issues more significant than life itself. Besides a love for socially progressive theory, what else did the women have in common? 

The brunette halted abruptly on the front steps of Harry's place. Realization crashing into her core. 

What did she have in common with her class? A sea of pale faces, and then her. 

Recalling her words to her mother earlier, she froze. Who was she?

A young woman of color. 

A biracial black woman. 

Just as she was about to drink the night away with her friends, she had a racial awakening on Harry's doorstep. 

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently working on the second story in the series. I promise all will be explained, and it will pick up fast. I fell in love with the idea of a non-white Hermione, and it became instrumental to the plot. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it!


	9. Party Games

The brunette sat on the far end side of Harry's sofa, nursing her beverage as she glanced over her friends. 

Harry and Draco were suspiciously close to one another, the blond frequently touching his knee as he laughed at whatever joke Harry had told. 

She met Fleur's stare from the kitchen above their heads. A set of fair eyebrows raised, the eyes beneath them pointedly glancing at the duo. 

The brunette took a sip of her beverage to hide her smile and shrugged. It was only a matter of time, their childish attempts at flirting growing old. 

The front door opened, and in waltzed Gabrielle with an armful of pizza, "Food has arrived!" Ron immediately went to the kitchen to grab the plates, and probably another beer. Neville awkwardly trying to help make space on the counter for the boxes. 

The younger Delacour placed the boxes on the kitchen table and made her way over to Fleur, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. 

The sisters exchanged a few words before both of them turned in the brunette's direction. 

Hermione blushed, realizing she'd been caught, and quickly avoided their gaze. Still flooded with embarrassment, she looked straight forward at the card game taking place as she felt the sofa beside her dip. 

  
"Have you seen the news lately?" The brunette relaxed, realizing that she wasn't going to tease her, and processed the question.

Hermione's confusion must've been evident on her face because the blonde continued. 

"Girls are disappearing from Windsor." She paused, looking over Hermione's face.

"They just went public with the details; apparently there's been seven disappearances. They haven't found a single person in connection, but the person who's committing the abductions is presumed to have a motive."

Hermione grew tense, a question dangling from her lips. 

Hogwarts is located in Eton, neighboring Windsor. 

"Is there a common trait among the girl's missing?" 

"They were all caucasian, and recently of legal age." 

The last statement stumped the brunette. Why would a person abduct young white girls from one of the wealthiest locations? 

She rationalized this as much as she could. 

"Why are you telling me this?" 

"It seems like a perfect set up." Blue eyes were conveying a message that the brunette was unable to decipher. 

"For what?"

"To distract the public."

The brunette caught in the blonde's stare, asking her to open her mouth and inquire. However, before Hermione could formulate her question, she was interrupted. 

"Alright!" Harry clapping his hands loudly, yanked the brunette out of the trance. 

"Let's play truth or dare!" A bright smile took over his face, not matching the queasiness in her stomach. 

"Hermione, you're up!" 

Putting on her show face and getting up to sit on the floor, she looked around the room.

"Rules are as follows; 1. Absolutely, and I cannot emphasize this enough, no changing from Truth to Dare and Vice Versa. 2. Always ask for consent. If the dare is imposing action on another person, and the person says no, then it is permissible to swap for Truth, but only if the person downs a beverage as a penalty. 3. No tampering with other persons Dares because it will result in the same punishment as stated before. 4. Know your limits, please. If you must say no, then take the penalty and down your beverage, or if you're past your limit on drinking, then stop. Following the same rules, the first person to bow out will begin the next game."

Gabrielle's mouth was gaping after hearing the bylaws of the game. Nervously glancing at her older sister, Hermione followed her gaze and caught Fleurs smirk. 

"Ronald," the brunette waved him forward, "you're up." A chortle came from the youngest Weasley. 

"Cut it out; it's only my second loss this year." His light blue eyes scanned the circle, landing on Luna. Seeing a potentially smooth first round, he pointed at her. "Truth."

The girl surprisingly prepared, almost as if she predicted Ronald's cop-out attempt, quickly queried. 

"Did you shave your pubic hair, and clog Ginny's shower?" 

The entire room broke out into a chorus of laughter, only growing more wildly out of control the redder he became. 

"I, too, am curious, Ronald." Hermione fanning at her neck, slightly overheating from laughing. "We had to call plumbing because our shower mysteriously stopped draining the one time you used it."

Baby blue eyes closed in resignation. "Yes, I did." 

The pace set for the game only grew in intensity. 

Luna dared by Harry to give herself an undercut, the boy winking in Ginny's direction as if to say your welcome. 

Harry confessed his feelings for Draco, growing redder with everyone's cheers as they kissed in celebration. 

Draco admitted he was a legacy applicant, and his father had an in with the admissions committee. 

Ginny gave a passionate rendition of God Save the Queen, along with the help from the tiny speaker on her phone. 

Hermione blanched as Fleur raised her eyebrow. 

"You can't be serious." The entire room was silent as the unheard conversation took place before them. 

"If you're too much a coward," a small smile slid onto the blonde's lips, "then just take the penalty and choose truth." 

Hermione flushed with ire and a need to prove she wasn't a wimp. 

The brunette boldly stood up, taking her sweater off, tossing it in one swift motion onto the floor. She unbuttoned her blouse, hiding her trembling fingers in the gaps of the fabric. 

She ignored Ron choking on his beer, and continue to discard the blouse on top of the sweater. 

Hermione sat back down, wearing a simple black bra. 

"I wouldn't have guessed." Fleur contemplatively spoke. "Good for you, babe." 

The brunette's stare morphed into a glare. As angry as the brunette wanted to be, Fleur was right. Hermione rarely dressed to promote her assets or appearance. It still didn't make her feel any less self-conscious. 

The young blonde woman beside her, frantically trying to avert her eyes. 

Fleur picked Neville, and he surprised everyone by asking her an intimate question. His exact words, "What's your favorite kink?" 

The blonde without hesitation answered. "Age-play." 

The two youngest Weasley's groaned in terror. Ginny knocked back her beer, running into the kitchen to get more, only to return with a suspiciously full glass.

Neville, always the bravest one of the group, was dared to makeout with Ronald, and after they finished, they both pulled away red in the face.

Bill stood in his boxers, triumphantly smiling at the group before him. 

Gabrielle was the last one, and a devilish smile appeared on Ron's face. 

"Take off Hermione's bra and take it home with you." 

Blue eyes glanced at the brunette. "Are you okay with this? I can take the drink and swap for Truth."

The curly-haired beauty realized at that moment that she was more than willing to let the girl next to her remove her bra.

She nodded her consent and tensed as the blonde's arms wrapped around her back, bringing their fronts together. 

Her face was buried into the blondes collarbone, significantly shorter than the girl. 

The smell of clean lavender invaded her thoughts, unsettling her. Her senses accustomed to another smell, a bold aroma that matched their owner's persona. 

The hooks came undone, the hands bringing the fabric forward and off of her body. 

Blue eyes met her stare and gave her a sense of security. 

Hermione watched as the girl placed the item into her bag.

"Truth or dare?" The blonde was abnormally calm.

"Dare." Ronald began to feel uneasy. 

"Shave off your eyebrows." 

His voice drastically rose in pitch. "All of it?"

"I'm sorry, would you rather bow out?"

The room fell in a chorus of chortling laughter—the youngest of the Weasley men in the room at the expense of it. 

Ronald shoving his hoody over his head, mumbling about the group blatantly ganging up, brought a warm feeling in the brunette's chest.

As they all said their goodbyes, Hermione couldn't help noticing the Delacour's huddled in the corner, speaking at a rapid rate. Bill, none the wiser, standing next to Harry, discussing plans for a pint in the future. 

"Luna asked me to come back with her, do you mind staying alone tonight?" Gentle brown eyes swept from the curly-haired brunette following her eyesight. "Or better yet, why don't I ask Gabrielle to escort you home safely? Maybe stay the night?" 

The brunette's glowing smile only confirming the redhead's suspicion.

The walk to her home alongside the blonde felt tense. Hermione couldn't pinpoint it, but the woman seemed on edge. 

Blonde eyebrows remained furrowed the entire walk. 

Her mood had shifted after their incident with the article of clothing. Hermione was currently walking home without a bra, and the girl beside her had it in her bag. 

Dread flooded through the brunette, horror promising to follow. 

Did she smell? She internally groaned as she realized that she potentially just ruined a relationship from the getgo. 

"I hope we can still get coffee tomorrow? Like we'd planned?" Blue eyes were glowing with concern. 

"Yes, of course." The brunette relaxed, realizing that the girl was merely nervous as well. "I'll message you." 

The blonde girl seemed to hesitate before she inclined her head towards her. 

Soft, thin lips cautiously met her own and clumsily initiated a kiss. The kiss felt wet and wrong. 

The brunette felt disheartened, and the kiss did nothing to placate her fears. 

She smiled at the girl and bid her goodbye as she slipped inside. 

She pushed the door close with her body, laying on it, deciphering her emotions. 

Why was it so difficult? What was wrong with her?

She could write books with her knowledge, resolve her friend's problems, but why couldn't she help herself?

A shiver went down her back as she realized she wasn't alone. 

A set of arms wrapped around her middle, helping her stand, their grip was the only thing keeping her from falling. 

"C'mon. Let's get ready for bed. I got us another book." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I apologize for any or all mistakes.


	10. Going Out

Hermione stood in front of her closet mirror, looking at her appearance in disdain.  
  
She went back into her closet in search of an outfit that would manage to make her look more appealing. She could've missed an outfit. Highly unlikely, but she could hope.  
  
"What're you doing?"  
  
Hermione reflexively slammed the closet door, only to look at herself in the reflection. She rolled her eyes at herself and spun on her heels to look at the woman sitting at her vanity.  
  
"I'm getting ready." She gave her friend a pointed look. "What are you doing with my lip gloss?"  
  
The woman in question froze and feigned confusion. "What are you talking about?"  
  
The past week she'd spent getting to know the youngest Delacour during the day, and becoming reacquainted with Bella at night. The affection she held for the Tulpa only grew, and the woman's exuberant behavior was one of the culprits.  
  
A smile spread on her lips, and she shook her head as she walked past Bella towards the bathroom in the hallway.  
  
Pretending she didn't see Bella furiously wiping her mouth.  
  
Walking past her best friend's room, she smiled.  
  
Ginny had opted to get ready with Luna and planned on staying the night at her place, heavily hinting to the brunette that she had the entire house to herself on three separate occasions, each more aggressive than the last time.  
  
"Where's your ginger friend?"  
  
"Ginny," she began, "is getting ready with her girlfriend." She looked back at the bathroom doorway, taking in the woman at ease. "Don't use that word, please. It makes me feel guilty for allowing a part of me, no matter how subconscious, to use contentious derogatory terminology."  
  
Bella frowned and pulled a face. "Well, no one cared before."  
  
Hermione turned to ask her what she meant, but the dark-haired woman continued.  
  
"Are you going out?" The smile on Bella's face appeared strained.  
  
"I am going out."  
  
"Is it with that pretentious blonde?"  
  
"What are you talking about, Bella?" Her voice rose, growing defensive without understanding why. "Her name is Gabrielle." She raised her eyebrow in confrontation. "Shouldn't you be happy that I am going out more?"  
  
"No." A huff escaped the older woman. "I want you to stay at home so that we can read together."  
  
"I can't believe it. I'm a twenty-year-old woman negotiating with herself about going out with her girlfriend."  
  
The grip on the doorframe tightened, small fragments began to appear, and the grip eased after the realization.  
  
All this went unnoticed by the brunette.  
  
"She's your girlfriend?" An ugly feeling began rearing its head, making itself at home in the woman's chest.  
  
"She is, has been for a week now." Hermione paused. "I thought you knew." Gabbi had asked her in the very same cafe that they'd met in.  
  
Through a tense jaw and clenched teeth, Bella managed to answer. "We've been over this; I am independent of you. Even when you were younger, it's just the way you prefer it, I guess."  
  
She could've sworn Bella had said otherwise. The brunette nodded dismissively, thinking nothing of it, and continued gathering her cleansers and hair product from the cabinets.  
  
She turned towards Bella, pointedly clearing her throat and ignoring the way those eyes elicited a giddy feeling in her stomach.  
  
The woman stood there, defiantly crossing her arms. Bella raised her right eyebrow in challenge.  
  
"I need to shower."  
  
Without missing a beat, Bella responded.  
  
"No one's stopping you, love."  
  
Incredulous, Hermione thought her options over.  
  
The brunette's demeanor shifted from annoyed to determined. Hermione took steps to close the gap between them.  
  
She gripped the bottom of the corset, fidgeting it with her fingers. She looked up from underneath her lashes right to the near onyx eyes, staring into her core.  
  
Lightly pulling the fabric towards her, she moved to bring her head up closer to the woman.  
  
Wide pitch-black eyes quickly became hooded with tunnel vision.  
  
The brunette paused, taking in the woman before her, desperately regretting the proximity. Her mind began to swim, but arms moving to envelop her caught her periphery, spurring her to act.  
  
"Bella." The older woman's breath hitched.  
  
"Get out!"  
  
The door slammed after she was shoved backward from the doorframe. She moved to push open the door again but heard the lock click in place.  
  
"Conniving little shit."  
  
As Hermione showered, she mulled over the autonomy Bella seemed to possess. On more than one occasion, the woman did as she pleased. How much control did she have over the Tulpa?  
  
Or was it what Hermione subconsciously wanted?  
  
She groaned, smacking her head on the tiled wall. Only, she would be narcissistic enough to grow feelings for the creation of her mind. Her internal crisis worsened as she realized it was probably karma for continually complaining that her dalliances weren't interested in the scholarly like she was and then ghosting them.  
  
She could always ask Bella, but then that defeats the purpose.  
  
Hermione sighed; she needed to seek out resources from the library. Promising to make time during her next shift, she shut the water off.  
  
Stepping out of the shower, she walked to the pile of items on the counter.  
  
"Okay, one thing at a time." She pulled her detangling brush from the pile and began the tedious process.  
  
Routines relaxed her, nothing new or surprising.  
  
As she lost herself in the motions of preparing for the night out, Hermione glanced at the clock on her phone.  
  
She had less than a half-hour before Gabrielle would arrive to get her.  
  
"Great."  
  
She finished diffusing her hair and took a look in the mirror. She smiled; the brunette felt better upon seeing her skin cleansed, teeth brushed, hair styled.  
  
She opened the door and headed in the direction of the room in search of her gloss.  
  
Bella lay, taking up the entirety of the floor. Crookshanks succeeded in filling the gap of space she left by her feet.  
  
"I'll walk on you."  
  
"I'm used to it."  
  
"I'll be back tonight, if I am up for it, we can read together."  
  
A beautifully toned arm propped up, holding the woman's weight as she sat up.  
  
"Promise?" The brunette took a look at the Tulpa on the floor, her heart stuttering.  
  
How can something not real, feel this way?  
  
The hopeful look on her face succeeded in pulling at the brunette's heartstrings.  
  
This-she was going to ruin her; one way or another, it would destroy her.  
  
"Promise."  
  
As she finished getting ready, she kept fighting the urge to cancel last minute. Bella refused to leave the floor and began poking at the brunette's bare ankle.  
  
She finished applying her moisturizer, blush, lip gloss, and a small amount of mascara. Never one for much makeup, she felt more comfortable with a simple touch.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You don't dress up for me." The brunette muffled her groan into her bag.  
  
"I never dress up for anyone besides myself." She expected Bella to interrupt but continued when silence greeted her. "I just want to look decent and not like the typical mess I am. We're merely going dancing."  
  
Sharp pain in her ankle made her shoot from the chair.  
  
A faux innocent look passed through Bella's face.  
  
"Unbelievable."  
  
Hermione brought her ankle up onto the chair, examining the printed indentations of teeth, that'd surely bruise if it came from a person.  
  
The pain felt real as she soothed it.  
  
"You just bit me."  
  
"So what."  
  
"You can't just fucking bite me, Bella."  
  
"Yeah, I can."  
  
"What makes you think so?"  
  
"You're mine."  
  
Hermione flushed, bringing a shit-eating grin on the blood-red lips.  
  
The brunette didn't have a chance to reply because, at that moment, the doorbell rang throughout the house. Hermione just shook her head and swiped her bag from the top of the vanity.  
  
She stepped over the limbs splayed on the floor and grabbed her heels, slamming the door as she all but fled from the room.  
  
She flew down the steps and stopped in the kitchen to put her heels on.  
  
Ignoring the apparent presence behind her, she took the remaining steps to the front door and placed her hand on the doorknob.  
  
"Please," her voice wavered, "I'll be back tonight."  
  
An unspoken promise to address what was happening.  
  
The fine hairs on her forearm relaxed, and she knew she was alone.  
  
She opened the door to a very nervous looking blonde. An arm jutted out at her making Hermione flinch.  
  
"I'm so sorry. I just meant to give you this; I should've used my words." Attached to her hand was a well-worn book, and the brunettes smile lit up her entire face.  
  
"How did you even find this-I can't accept this. It probably cost you a fortune."  
  
"Then think of it as a loan. It'll be one of the many books we'll share." The spine boldly displayed the words, _The Wretched of The Earth_.  
  
"This is certainly better than a bouquet."  
  
She placed the book on the door side table.  
  
The blonde smiled and held her hand out, Hermione's complexion contrasting with the fair skin.  
  
"I'm so glad I ignored Fleur's advice. You know she said to serenade you..."  
  
The brunette's smile slipped onto her face, feeling at ease in the calming presence of the beautiful woman. She followed the taller blonde to the vehicle, but as she got in, the sensation from earlier returned. She caught a glimpse of her bedroom window.  
  
A silhouette was standing there, observing them.  
  
Bella.  
  
Unable to make out her expression, she felt a shiver go down her back.  
  
"Are you cold? I can turn on the heater." The brunettes head whipped to look into the concerned blue eyes of her date.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Her discomfort only grew worse as they drove farther from the house and closer to the club.  
  
She looked over to see Gabrielle driving with her left hand and her right hand on her thigh, fidgeting. Hermione smiled at the simpleness of it all.  
  
Reaching over, she intertwined their fingers, bringing the hand onto her lap.  
  
She giggled as the blonde's cheeks lit up.  
  
"I rarely blush, but when I do, it's an hourlong event."  
  
"Lucky you." She hesitated but dismissed her reservations. "I have all night."  
  
They had managed to find street parking reasonably quick and made their way into the venue.  
  
The music was pulsing through the floor and vibrating the walls.  
  
They made their way to the small group in the far corner. She caught sight of Draco on Harry's lap, Ronald knocking back a shot, and Ginny's mouth searching Luna's tonsils. Hermione looked over the group again and realized she hadn't missed anyone.  
  
She turned to the blonde. "Where's your sister and Bill?"  
  
"Don't know, actually." She shrugged and roamed her eyes over Hermione. "I don't think I've told you yet, but you look incredible."  
  
She'd gone with the choice of a high-waisted burgundy corduroy skirt, accompanied by a cropped black blouse, both of which fit her like a glove accenting her curves, and exposing her midriff.  
  
Hermione felt herself flush, but was thankful the lighting in the club masked it. Only ever used to Bella calling her that, she failed to function for a moment accurately.  
  
Rarely on the receiving end of compliments, the warm feeling in her chest spread to her stomach. Something so insignificant to the blonde meant the difference to the brunette.  
  
A hand gripped the right side of her hip, pulling her into the blonde's side. She froze as she felt a pair of lips on her ear.  
  
"Let's go take a shot with them." She exhaled, causing the brunette to shiver. "Then we can dance," she pulled away, looking at Hermione, "alone."  
  
Hemione nodded before she could think.  
  
"Thank god for Harry and Draco finally getting their shit together!" The youngest Weasley raised her shot glass. The group cheered in agreement, looking over at the blushing duo.  
  
Draco grew serious, looking over his group of friends, settling on the brunette. "I tried to fight it, even avoid looking in his direction, but he's mine, and I'm his." His ice-blue stare burning into the brunette's honey brown, she grew uncomfortable rapidly.  
  
Hermione broke the stare and trailed her vision over to her first childhood friend.  
  
He sat there, the happiest she'd seen him since he'd left his uncle's house.  
  
When he'd finally received his parent's possessions, and the letter addressed to him, he found the closure he desperately desired—the testament lifting a weight off of his shoulders and pushing him to finish his criminology degree.  
  
Hermione felt happy for her friend, but couldn't help the terrible feeling in her stomach, envy, a feeling she had only vividly felt a handful of times before.  
  
The apparent happiness was evident on both of the men's faces.  
  
She swallowed her feelings, stuffing them into her deepest depths, leaving her throat raw in its wake.  
  
A petite hand brought the raised glass down to her mouth, knocking back the liquid in the hope it would douse the burning in her throat.  
  
It managed to singe it further.  
  
She had to forget her.  
  
Hermione tilted her head to look at the beautiful blonde.  
  
Perfect smile, delicate lips, and slightly rounded cheeks rapidly giving way to maturity.  
  
Blue eyes, always welcoming and provocative, set forth a warm feeling in the brunette's chest.  
  
At the moment, she couldn't stop herself from comparing her to the storm grey eyes that never ceased to evoke emotional vomit—a sculpted jawline that came from age, and hallowed cheeks speckled with dimples.  
  
She hated that.  
  
The power something unreal had over her heart.  
  
Snatching the drink from Ginny's hand, the brunette downed it looking at the blonde. "You could've just asked."  
  
Ignoring her best friend, she set the empty glass down.  
  
"Dance with me?" A pretty smirk graced the blonde's face.  
  
Music pulsed from the floor, moving as warm tingling sensation up the intertwined legs. The brunette felt the heat traveling through her limbs, and the limbs intimately entangled with hers.  
  
Fingers clasped on her hip, prompting her to turn outward.  
  
Heavy breathing sounded in her ear, making her flash white-hot.  
  
"You're such a good dancer."  
  
Hermione began to move more rhythmically into the person behind her. Their touch was traveling along her waist, her hips, and stopped one small movement from her chest.  
  
Arousal pooled in her middle.  
  
Hermione was embarrassed that she practically preened at the compliment.  
  
A hand clasped her hair, turning her lips directly onto the taller blondes.  
  
The clumsy kissing, sank her stomach, only serving to dishearten Hermione further.  
  
Looking up to the cheekily smiling blonde, she knew what she had to do. She'd run out of options.  
  
' _This is like any other academic endeavor.'_ She clasped her hand on the neck, bringing their lips together. _'I will forget her, even if it ruins me.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	11. Volatile

The girls formed a mess of tangled limbs walking up the steps towards the blonde's home. 

The brunette stumbled backward through the front door. 

A boot kicking the door closed behind their intertwined bodies. The blondes grip tightened on the brunette's waist, pulling her impossibly closer into the petite frame. 

Hands gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her in their grip, and finally placing her on a cold hard surface. 

The brunette suddenly overwhelmed by roaming hands slipping beneath the back of her black blouse, couldn't think straight. 

Hermione brought her hands up to the girl's shoulders. She lightly pushed, but the girl seemed not to notice it.

The brunette began to shove in earnest, and the girl broke their connected mouth apart. 

"Sorry, I got carried away." The blonde gasped out, her voice sounding strained. 

The brunette let out an airy laugh and moved to hop off the counter, but found herself unable to move because the body pinned her.

Hermione looked up into onyx eyes. 

"Gabbi?" 

The duo momentarily stood in the middle of the kitchen. The girl leaned her forehead on the brunette's neck. 

"Gabbi?" Her tremulous voice rang in the room—a terrible fear sinking in her stomach. 

Hermione couldn't comprehend the pure fright coursing through her. 

An unresponsive body was weighing her down and pressing her into the counter, threatening to trigger a claustrophobic response. 

The blonde's fingers dug deeper into her hip, spilling a hiss from her lips. 

At the very moment, her pupils dilated, her skin flushed, and her heartbeat rapidly picked up, all in a flight or fight response. 

Unable to flee, she began to shove and kick at the trembling figure standing over her. Her panic increased exponentially when the blonde didn't budge an inch. 

A resigned sob escaped her lips, and she simply went limp.

A familiar sensation jolted the brunette from her helpless state.

A vicious shiver ran down her back, and her heart began to race in earnest. 

The brunette looked past the girl's shoulder straight into the looming figure standing behind her. 

Gabrielle looked up upon sensing the shift in the environment. Snarling when a hand clasped her shoulder. The brunette's eyes widened, Bella looked murderous. 

A soft, "Close your eyes," was the only warning she received as she heard the sounds of fighting, growing lightheaded upon hearing what sounded like two feral beasts fighting. 

Visceral fear took her voice from her.

The sounds grew closer by the moment.

A silent scream left her lips as she felt arms taking her into their hold, a tug at her navel, making her nauseous.

The volume ceased, and the brunette's eye shot open to see the empty pitch-black room before her.

Disoriented and in disbelief, she took in her bedroom.

Shell shocked, the brunette shut the door in her bedroom, knowing very well it would do nothing to protect her. 

A breeze blew through the room, teeth chattering she turned to face the woman. 

"Please." A dry mouth swallowed their sob. "No more lies."

Brown eyes blurred with unshed tears, flipping through a catalog of emotions. Finally, settling on calculated calm, the brunette's courage coming back.

The person she perceived as a figment of her mind stood before her now in blood and flesh. 

Had always been blood and flesh, or whatever the hell she was. 

Reality dawned onto the brunette, the realization that she was merely a pawn in some twisted way. A scorching heat shredded through Hermione's chest and into the pit of her stomach, a humiliation in its rawest form.

Grey eyes widened, and lips moved to form words that wouldn't resolve anything. Tears pooled, but they never fell. 

"I've always loved you, please. Don't do anything rash. Let me explain-"

"Enough!" Small fists grasped brown curls in an attempt to ground her. "I don't want to hear your lies. I'm not a child anymore." A hiccup escaped passed pink lips, and teeth bit into the slightly fuller bottom lip. 

"Who are you?" Too afraid to ask her real question.

What was she?

Tears began to fall, scorching as they trailed across warm honey cheeks. 

Black brows furrowed in resignation at seeing the tears. 

"I'm the same person that I've always been." Bella felt herself lose certainty. Fear, a feeling she hadn't felt in ages barreling through her. "You're the most important person in my dreadful existence. I couldn't bear to lose you, Hermione." 

A cold and shallow set of eyes met her stare. 

What had she been thinking? That the girl would remain oblivious? That her demons wouldn't come back for their pound of flesh?

Bella could've waited and refrained from visiting her, but as much as she tried, she couldn't. She was barely able to refrain from murdering the youngest Delacour. 

She could've come right out and told her the truth, but then risked her well being. 

What good did waiting for her well being do? She was teetering on the ledge of sanity and insanity, Hermione close to joining her. 

"I'm Bellatrix Black, and I've been waiting for you since I was old enough to covet." 

The brunette backed away closer towards the door in her bedroom, processing the words.

"I would never hurt you, please don't be afraid." 

"I loathe you." 

An involuntary response, eyes narrowing, pupils dilating, and spit pooling, she stepped towards the brunette. 

She stalked towards the brunette, in tandem with her steadily rising palpitations. 

"Take it back." 

"I fucking hate you," struggling to find the words, "whatever you are." 

Hands slammed onto the wall on either side of the brunettes curls. 

A gasp escaped pretty pink lips, swollen from crying. 

Hot gasps escaped from her mouth, directly into the parted red lips so close to hers the phantom feeling of touch caused her breath to hitch. 

The smell, a combination of rose oil and lemon, an exhilarating candied scent, enticing Hermione closer to the source. 

"Stop fighting me," a groan left her mouth, "we can figure out the logistics after." Eyes once grey now resembled pits of darkness sucking the brunette into their owner's intent. 

"This isn't fair; I have friends." She choked on her sob. "I thought I had a girlfriend." A firm grip on her waist stopped her from breaking down. 

"What are you?"

"You're mine," A mouth latched onto the side of her neck, nipping at the skin, lathing it over with her tongue, "and I am yours." A bold bite to her throat, making her go limp. "You know it too." The grip on her waist tightened, the following words drawing a whimper from the brunette. "Be a good girl," heavy breathing sounded in her ear, "stop fighting."

"Why are you still here?" A hand ghosted down her side, gripping her bare leg, pulling it up and around the heavy fabric. "I just want to be normal."

Fingers trailed back up the leg towards the apex of her thighs. Abs spasming, thighs trembling, and breaths shaking; she gripped the curls at the nape of Bella's neck. Widened pits of black became hooded. 

She meant to shove her away, but her hands betrayed her.

With a desperate pull, their lips met, creating a symphony of noises. 

Overwhelmed, Hermione parted her lips to gain air only to grant Bella entry.

Bella's fingers continued their trek towards the heat hidden beneath the skirt. 

Bella sensing her lover's need for air retracted, laying her forehead against the brunette's. 

Firm fingers pushed the fabric against her swollen bundle of nerves. Hermione's head slammed back against the wall but never lost sight of the black eyes. Her hips stayed still waiting for Bella.

"You're such a good girl for me," a whine left Hermione's lips with already overheated cheeks masking her blush, "aren't you?" 

Lost to the sensations overwhelming her, feelings she had never been privy to, she answered. "Yes."

Bellatrix's eyes shut closed, and she leaned her head against Hermione's neck. As much as she wanted to continue, she was quickly losing her cool and wanted the other woman's voice to confirm her desire.

"Do you want this?" The throat against her cheek bobbed with the gasps Hermione swallowed. 

The brunette knew the truth; she could resist, but the vitriolic attraction she possessed for this woman, this thing, was impossible to ignore. 

"Yes," she gripped the unruly black curls and brought their lips together. 

Hermione melted into the movement of soft lips against hers. The warmth in her stomach spread into her chest, and she felt complete. 

A sentiment so strong, swirled in her stomach, spreading throughout her chest, coming out of her mouth and onto the lips of her lover as moans. 

A firm hand pushed her back against the wall. "Look at me." 

Bellatrix took in the wild hair, blown pupils, and flushed cheeks. Her mind made up; she continued her ministrations between the thighs, gripping her hip with the other hand. 

Hermione couldn't begin to feel embarrassed about her bodily reactions. Not as Bella's fingers rubbed the fabric of her panties against her. 

She watched as those same fingers lifted to blood-red lips, and nearly lost it when those fingers disappeared within them. 

"Keep your eyes on me." 

Hermione looked up with hooded eyes and took in an untamed-feral black-haired beauty. 

She gasped as the sensation continued, driving her mad. The fabric kept her from feeling the direct contact, the yearning she felt growing in her center. 

"You're always so good for me." Her eyes rolled back involuntarily at the sensation, and the words coaxing a reaction from her, an emotion she'd never felt pushing her farther into the waves of pleasure. 

A whimper tore from her throat when the sensation let up. Hermione concerned that she'd done something wrong, let her eyes travel beyond eye contact, taking in the facial features before her. 

"Show me what you want," her husky voice choked out, "use me." 

The brunette felt a flash of heat rush through her at the prospect, but couldn't find the strength to do so. 

As if sensing her hesitance, Bellatrix spoke. "Don't you want to feel good?" 

The desire coursing through her prompting her to began shifting her hips into the older woman's midsection. 

Seeing the brunette unable to find stimulation, Bella placed her down, pressing her thigh between her legs. 

Hermione managed to maintain her eye contact with Bellatrix, pleasing the latter immensely. 

She began rocking on the pant covered leg and quickly found herself lost in the sensations assaulting her. Black eyes bore into her, staring right through her soul. 

Nerve endings on fire, the brunette began to undulate rhythmically. Chasing the finish, she typically accomplished alone in the privacy of her room.

The fabric of the pant leg beneath her drenched, and Bellatrix could only imagine the state of the brunette's intimates. 

"You look gorgeous."

A pathetically soft mewl left the brunettes parted lips, and her body gave in entirely to the woman standing before her. 

"There you go, sweetling, just like that." Awed at the state of the brunette, she could barely contain her affection—the ability to witness such unrefined beauty.

A dark look passed over the woman's face, grip tightening on her waist. 

"Does she make you feel like this?" Hands began to move her up and down on the thigh. "Like you're going to die if I stop touching you?"

Hermione's mouth remained open, spewing sinful moans.

Unable to comprehend the questions, she lost herself in the eyes before her, the owner of them responsible for the voracious pleasure she was experiencing.

Bella's head broke the spell and leaned down towards her throat. On instinct, the brunette turned, exposing more skin, making the older woman practically preen. 

"You were made for me." The sensual heat from the whispered words making the brunette's eyes roll. 

One of the hands gripping the waist trailed down to cup the brunettes backside—the grip serving as additional leverage to move the girl along her thigh. 

"Don't you feel it?"

The fire in her stomach and her chest spread like wildfire, emotions bubbling to a boiling point that would inevitably end in disaster—the sounds flooded out of her in a guttural fashion. 

"Nnngh."

White heat flashed through Bella. Wanting desperately to go further, but settling for the meanwhile. 

"Use your words," vicious teeth gripped the brunettes lobe, "don't you want to finish?" 

"God-yes." The girl saw blinding colors beneath her eyelids. 

"Your body knows it too." Exhaling in her ear. "Such a wanton little thing." 

A whine escaped from Hermione's mouth. The realization that she couldn't push past the barrier to finish, she grew frantic.

"Come for me, love." 

"Bella," a devotional. 

The brunette cried out as her body convulsed, nerve endings alive and rendering her mindless. 

A cry morphed into a gasp when Bella's perfect teeth pierced her throat.

Her center continued to pulse, in tandem with each gulping draw—the high reaching heights she'd never imagined possible. 

The brunette overrun with sensations and emotions gripped at the curls to ground herself. 

A wet snarl sounded from the mouth connected to her throat. Her intent misunderstood; she continued and yanked her closer. Teeth dug further, the brunette involuntarily triggering another traitorous orgasm. 

The brunette couldn't begin to formulate her thoughts. 

As she began to lose consciousness, the past few weeks flashed before her. It had always been there; she had simply refused to look closely. The lies added up—those same curls in her very grip, the full red lips, and piercing grey eyes. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any or all mistakes! I also am sorry for my very first smut scene, but I hope you found some satisfaction in it. The praise kink kind of happened, as I, and consequently Bella, realized throughout the story that Hermione probably had earlier encounters from rarely receiving compliments as a child. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the introduction to the universe if it felt rushed, it's because I want to get to the action. I'm planning on continuing, but it depends on if people are interested. It will be expanding in the following story, and I'm preparing for it to be from Bella's limited point of view. My quarantine has been extended even more, so I will have even more free time.


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